The Consqences of Wisdom
by Winter Frosts
Summary: Sofia is born into a world because of an old promise, one made on the Styx. Her birth wasn't wanted by many, and those that did only wanted a tool with which to destroy both worlds. But she isn't going to stand by and let people use her, not the gods, and certainly not her father. T
1. Parenthood

**I hate, HATE writing speech. It makes me want to cry. I'm really, really sorry for taking so long to update, but I have better plans for this trilogy spanning Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and The Avengers, although the last won't be appearing until book 2, which realistically is like at least 40 chapters away. Any way, I hope you appreciate my version of Voldemort, he's going to be a bit more human and subsequently a lot more dangerous in this series than in canon. This is long authors note already, so I won't bore you with excuses, but please review, cause they do motivate me soooo much.**

 **Disclaimer: Whatever don't sue me.**

* * *

An alarm blaring was the first abnormal thing to happen that night. It was a ward Voldemort had placed himself around the Malfoy manor, and it was supposed to prevent anyone unauthorised from entering the grounds. Immediately everyone in the meeting room looked directly towards their leader, and turned away from the woman that was being tortured.

"Rowle, Nott and Parkinson go and check the grounds. Meeting adjourned. Dolohov take our prisoner back to its cell." Barked Lord Voldemort. The day they capture the first order member, and he was interrupted by an alarm. The twenty or so death-eaters in the room fled as quickly as they good, either trying to avoid a pending attack, or to go and fight. Snorting, Tom considered that he really ought to get some new followers. The ones he had currently were either cowards, or stupid. With a few exceptions of course.

Speaking of exceptions, Voldemort noticed that one figure remained in the room.

"Bella are you fond of not following orders or are you too dumb to notice when I order everyone out of the room?" The woman flushed, a look which did not suit her aristocratic features.

"Well I thought that if an impending attack was happening, that someone should stay with you." She said after a moment to collect herself. A smirk danced across the Dark lord's lips.

"Are you implying that I need protection?" He said, his cold voice chilling Bellatrix's face, which promptly drained of what little colour it had.

"No… not at all… I" Again, unlike herself Bella stuttered and stumbled over her words. Her master made a mental note to ask what was wrong, then frowned. He did not ask what was wrong with his workers. As long as it did not affect their work, why should he care. Before he could continue his half-light hearted tormenting of Bellatrix, the three men returned holding a golden basket.

"My lord, this was the only thing we could find, it was flowing towards the entrance." Nott explained, putting the basket carefully on the ground.

"He means floating, sire." Rowle amended.

"And could you be more specific and tell me what it is?" Voldemort said, putting Nott in the stupid section of his followers, and letting his anger show in his voice. The three men paled.

"It's a… a child, my lord." Parkinson said, quieter than his usual bellow.

"Would you like me to dispose of it?" The only female in the room asked. Voldemort shook his head, and summoned the basket to him. When he held it he noticed that it was made of a shimmering golden wood, one that he could not recognise. The child inside appeared fairly generic, with a small tuft of black hair on its head. Having barely any experience with children himself, Riddle could not tell what age it was, though it looked incredibly young. He was about to grant Bella her wish when he noticed a corner of a letter poking out underneath the child's blanket. Curious, he put the child on the floor and opened the envelope, trying to ignore the intense gaze of the others.

Inside the letter was a neat, curly writing. It seemed familiar, but almost dreamlike. The message itself was cryptic, and yet straight forward.

 _Sofia Riddle_ \- Presumably the child's name. Voldemort didn't dwell on the implications of their shared last name, for he had never been remotely romantic with anyone.

 _Now I fulfil my promise, it is time for you to fulfil yours_ \- Again, Voldemort never made promises that held any weight, others promised him things, not the other way around. Memories loomed on the horizon of his mind, tempting to leap forward at any second. Nothing about this seemed familiar, yet he felt a connection with this child that he could not explain.

There was a small giggle from his feet. He looked down into the child's storm grey eyes, and was submersed in a wave of memories.

Grey eyes stared at him. Being tall it was rare for anyone, especially a girl to look at him eye to eye. But this alone could not explain the immense power he felt radiating off this woman. The woman would not be messed with, and would squish him like a bug if she decided she didn't like him. Tom Riddle felt fear for the first time in his life, and he did not enjoy the emotion.

"I've heard about your work?"

It had always been work between them. From the morning that she barged into Borgin and Burke's at two am, demanding to see him and scaring Borgin to death. Quite literally as the man had died only a month later, cursing about a beautiful Grecian woman. They certainly had grown close, for they had stayed in contact for years. Well, she could contact him, he had spent many lengths to try and find her and contact her, only to find she did not exist. But she would always appear when he embarked on a new project. She would stay with him for however long the project took, and then disappear as soon as it was finished. Whilst this arrangement kept them close, it never allowed them to become friends, as he never found out anything about her. In fact, when he repeatedly asked for her name, she just said, "There is much power in a name Tom, or should it be Voldemort now?" she had seemed so innocent, yet she knew how dark he was. She would change the subject whenever he mentioned it. He had posed that she simply did not want to dwell on the fact that she knew a murderer. What a very human thing to do.

Although, truth be told he had never even been sure she was human. Though it was true she did not resemble any creature that he could think of, aside from human, she had a certain air around her that was different. She held herself as if nothing could pose the slightest threat to her. She spoke with a wisdom beyond her years and he had seen her perform the advanced wandless magic. Though she had seemed threatened once. The last time he had seen her.

8 years earlier:

A Sharp rapping on his door woke him that morning. Look at his clock it was six in the morning. No one had woken him up when he had been in this house. His followers would never disturb him, too afraid of his anger. Even the Malfoy's, who owned the place he was staying- not hiding, for he did not need to hide- would not wake him. A house elf might come in if it was past noon, but never an actual person. The sharp knocking recommenced, forcing Tom to get out of bed and open the door.

Revealing Ava. Well, that's the name he had given her after she refused to tell him her real one. Stormy grey eyes connected with his, and he shivered. Something had broken inside of her. She looked more than a little deranged, and she had been crying.

"Sorry, to wake you, but it's urgent." She said, her voice hoarse, so crying and yelling then. Probably at someone. He opened the door further to let her in. She did not sit down, instead paced for a few moments before facing him.

"I can't visit you anymore." She said. It was not confident, but neither cowardly, it was a statement of a fact. Voldemort looked at her, his eyebrow arched, a cool exterior masking a furnace inside.

"What?" He said, only letting a little of his anger show. He was wide awake now, fury boiling inside, yet it was not directed towards the woman.

"Tom, I can't explain, I am forbidden, but my father will no longer tolerate me seeing you. I'm sorry." Fear was present in her voice, and Voldemort realised that it was directed towards the man that was forbidding their company, not at the woman treating him as if he could be refused.

"Why now, why this change? Ava, you are aware of who I am, you always have been. Which is more than I can say for you." A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she ignored it, but sat down, though she looked ready to jump at everything.

"Let's not pretend you're the same person than you were in Borgin and Burkes. I know as much about you now than you do about me." She paused, took a breath, and steeled herself. "I know, that despite your façade you long to have more of a relationship than we do currently. But I cannot do that."

"Why?"

"I'm not human. I know you have suspected it for some time now. I am a goddess, one of many that rule this realm." Thunder rumbled outside, and she glared at the ceiling, seemingly trying to match the sky. Riddle did not blink at the knowledge, but that fact that there were deities shocked him. "My name is Athena, and I came to you because I saw ambition and wisdom. But what I ignored was your darkness. My king can't ignore that, because our duty is to the world, not to induvial mortals. So, he decreed that this was the last time I could ever see you, there are ways to promise people things in my world, things which I can't ignore. So, I'll promise you something, the biggest gift I can give anyone." Tom was still in shock, but if her power was as great as she implied, a gift couldn't go amiss.

"On the river Styx I promise to give you a child, and they will be half god, half mortal. But you must protect her from her enemies Tom." Now Voldemort didn't know what to do. He was a dark lord, who had no time for children. But, an heir could be useful, especially one as powerful as himself and Av- Athena combined. Protecting her wouldn't be a big problem.

"I, I swear on the river Styx." Thunder cracked outside, and lightning stuck just outside the manor. Athena smiled at him one last time, and he closed his eyes as she left.

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Waking from his memories, Voldemort looked down at the smiling infant.

"Oh shit," muttered the dark lord, and father to a demi-god.


	2. A dark lord does not a father make

Fatherhood is undoubtedly one of the hardest things a human can do. It is time consuming, pain inducing, and the dark lord couldn't comprehend why people did it. The survival of the species was naturally important, but babies didn't do anything for you, except give you an heir to pass your money to when you die. But he was immortal, so being awoken by a screaming infant every night was not necessary. Certainly, it was not wanted. He had been half tempted to kill it after three days, but he couldn't take the chance that a god would come and smite him. His horcruxes were a backup, not something he particularly wanted to experience.

As was usual, he woke up at 3 in the morning, the piercing sound of a wailing baby filling the air. He rolled over and tried to drown it out with his thoughts. A house elf, or failing that Bellatrix would normally make the racket cease, but tonight it was unrelenting. Five minutes went by, and even his pillow -which had been strategically placed on his face- did little. Maybe three days old was too young to place the dark mark on someone. At least he knew for next time.

Finally snapping from the yelling, he leapt from his ebony bed. Why couldn't it just be quiet? Not wanting to destroy his formidable reputation, he threw on a black cloak over his grey, silk pyjamas. He looked in the mirror before he left. His gaunt face stared back at him, his furious, scarlet eyes scanned his appearance, from his balding hair, to his skeletal frame. He certainly looked scary, and with the addition of black books, any passing guards would not be able to tell that he had just been sleeping. For all they knew, he never slept, mainly due to his supreme dark lordiness. He chuckled at the thought as he exited the room, the silver door knob turning seamlessly; the house elves polished it every week after all. His mood changed once gain to anger as he approached where they were keeping the infant. Malfoy manor did not have a nursery or children's rooms, as the oldest child was now a man, and Lucius saw no need for one, although one could easily be created when their scion was born.

Meaning that it was being kept in one of the spare bedrooms at the back of the house. The deep purple furniture was as resplendent as the rest of the house, and only the crib was out of place, having been bought by a very confused looking Narcissa in diagon alley. The placement of the room made it quite secretive, only the screams gave away the fact that a child was here, and everyone assumed they came from the dungeons. No, only Bellatrix and himself knew of the child, the followers who had brought it to him were obliviated. He would like to keep it that way, for being paternal was not in his nature and did not want his followers thinking he was going soft.

He shook himself from his ponderings, and focused on the crib. The creature within it was crying, and its arm had gone bright pink. He put down his wand on the side on the smooth dresser, and stood over her, eyes blazing. Unfortunately, the child did not know to fear the man yet, so it did not cease when it met his gaze. Sofia was in pain, and all she knew was that by screaming, food and warmth would be provided, and the pain would stop. Unfortunately, none of those things applied to Voldemort. He knew nothing of children, except that they could be killed easier than adults. He remembered pictures of people holding babies, so gingerly held the infant at arm's length. Its pale skin was freezing, but the arm was burning. Had the ritual not worked? He had done it many times before, but maybe the child's genetic makeup made it work differently. He kept the crying child away from him, its emotions being a plague that might've affected him. Maybe three days was a little young to be branded with the dark mark. Just a smidge.

"Will you be quiet?" He snapped at the quivering child, his anger finally overloading his control. The child hesitated for a moment, shock breaching its eyes, before resuming her howl. The man's face went red. It defied him, this little… demon! His back stiffened. He white knuckled squeezed the child harder. All conscious thought ceasing, the monster shook the infant as hard as he could.

"Shut up for fucks sake!" He yelled, not believing the events around him. Where was the damn house elf? This work was beneath him, this squishy lump could not be related to him. The damn goddess could take her back. He was never asked whether he wanted a child. He never would have chosen to have one. If this was some twisted ploy by the gods to test him in some way, he'd give them a reaction.

He froze. Acutely aware of what he was doing to the child. Fear replaced his anger, something only Athena could do to him. He glanced anxiously at the ceiling. If the gods found out he had killed the child, he would make his job a lot more difficult. He loosened his grip considerably, and looked into the grey eyes of his child. With a burst of joy, he realised that the child was no longer crying.

"You can't make that much noise, it is very annoying." He muttered, his voice softer than he would have liked. The child stared back at him, and he only had time to noticed the green tinge of the babe before vomit flew all over him.

Red flashed across his eyes, and a scream of pure fire was heard for half a mile around. The Malfoys were woken three floors away, and a young house elf, who would later call himself Dobby, remembered he was supposed to be covering for his ill aunt that night. The sickening smell raced up Voldemort's nostrils, and an internal inferno exploded within him. He threw child across the room, sneering in contemplation of the satisfying sound he was about to hear. Bones snapping was such a calming noise.

In the kitchens, the young house elf sprang into action, forgetting the knitting he was doing. He teleported to the infant's room, only to see it fly above his head. Instinctively he snapped his fingers and the babe froze in mid-air, millimetres away from death. He dropped the small girl into his arms, and glared at his master's master for all it was worth. He was gone as quickly as he had come, and the green light flew through empty space where he had just been. An animalistic howl was heard again, and scarlet eyes stared at his sick covered pyjamas, waiting to kill whomever walked next through the polished door.

A rather dishevelled goddess of wisdom could be seen storming through the marble hills of Olympus. Three days after giving birth, most would be resting and guarding their child religiously. Unfortunately for our goddess, not only was she forced to resume her work, but also give away her child to a man who had just attempted to kill a three-day old baby!

A month earlier Apollo (an ego-centric, cocky bastard most of the time) had burst into her home, looking rather exhausted. Athena did not like the sandy-haired sun god, but when a deity tells you the world is at stake, you tend to believe them. So, she had brushed her caramel hair behind her ear, and sat down behind a table. What transpired in the next few minutes made her want to cry. Since she had been banned from visiting Tom, she had payed very little notice to the wizarding world. She did not want to see herself proved wrong. But Apollo informed her that Voldemort had almost taken over magical Britain, with little international resistance. But, at last there was a flickering candle of hope for the light side. A prophecy.

Athena didn't like prophecies. They made her itch beneath her snow coloured dress, longing to ask questions. They were simply told what, when and where, never how or why. Of course, she took heed to them, they were never wrong, however long they took to fulfil. However, this one made her particularly angry. It could apply to multiple people for starters, was not year specific, and depended on one too many variables. Apparently, Apollo did not see any issues with it, but was only worried it would be fulfilled in the wrong manner. So, he was suggesting she risk her neck to help him.

Safe to say it did not go down well. They argued back and forth for days, other gods did get involved, especially Hera and Hecate. Eventually, remarkably, Athena conceded. It was agreed that she would complete her end of an old bargain, and give the wretched witch-lord his child. They all hoped that a child might provoke emotions within him, bring forth the Tom she once knew. After a month, the idea was fully formed, and a golden bassinet was passed around Olympus, its mother asking for protection to be given to the child.

After 72 hours, the protections, along with the plan, already seemed to be failing. An alarm had been placed amongst the many blueprints scattered in Athena's office. It would ring if any of her children were in mortal danger. It displayed the pale image of a new-born girl, and the goddess had run out of the villa, seeking Apollo's head.

"You promised me she would be safe!" She shrieked, as she threw a edition of the encyclopaedia Britannica at the teens head. "He threw her at a wall!" The complete collection of Doyle's Sherlock stories was incinerated just as it hit his forehead. "She was saved by a house- elf. A house. Elf!" She raged, now too close to the God for comfort.

"You said his promise would stop him from hurting her!" He yelled right back. The addition of his pure form silenced the mad woman. He returned, and held up his hand as Athena was about to start another tirade.

"That child, that baby is going to be in grave danger her entire life. We knew this might happen. He is a psychopath, he doesn't think like you and I and we did not know anything for certain. She is one of the only half-blood wizard crosses to ever exist. She will be incredibly lucky to reach age 11, but if she does she will become formidable. But you can't intervene every time she almost dies, you will never get anything else done. If he kills her, which somehow, I doubt, it will be a shame. My heart would go out to you. But she is still like any other of your children, the same rule about interfering with them applies the her as well." At her murderous look, he faltered slightly, but quickly resumed, sensing it was his only time to get a word in edge ways. "Do not attack me, kill Zeus if you must, I am the messenger. I may be younger than you by a few years, but I will not allow you to harangue me with complaints about your children. Try and forget her, if only for a few years. The prophecy child will be born next July, and who knows what will happen after then. Trust in the fates Athena. Unbelievably they do care about this planet to."

Narcissa was sent scurrying away from the spare bedroom in a state of shock. Having the cruciatous curse performed on her was not new, but this one was far more potent than any she had faced before. She really did not want to know what had pissed of you-know-who so much. It was over quickly, yet she still was gripping her fingers, trying to stop them from twitching. She ran throughout the halls, searching for floo powder to summon her sister. Per the lord's request, there were only two fire places that connected to the floo, to decrease risk of an invasion. But it was a pain when you needed to get somewhere quickly.

"Bella?" The young woman said into the flames. "Bella, are you there?" The crackle of the fire made her twitch, the scorched scent of the carpet alerting her to how close she was getting. Jumping back in shock, a beautiful face appeared inches from her own.

"Yes Cissa? What would cause your panic at this ungodly hour of night?" Her older sister asked, the real meaning going unsaid. A single and between sisters was enough conformation, and Bellatrix Lestrange gracefully hopped out of the fireplace, a maddened glee in her eyes.

"Where is the dark lord?"

"In one of the back rooms, I'll show you," Narcissa said, fear etching her face. How far down this maddened line was her sister falling? "I should warn you that he is angrier than I have ever seen him, and he's bee living in this house on and off for years.t I hope you have done nothing to anger him Bellatrix, for otherwise this may be your last night."

"I'm his right-hand woman, I think I'll be fine." Bella smirked, her love could never harm her. She was his most trusted, he told her that himself. Slightly behind her, Narcissa questioned how arrogant a person could be. His most trusted. Yeah right. The only person that man trusted was himself.

Only the older sister went to face the dark lord, the younger not wanting to be tortured again.

"My lord, you requested to see me?" Bella asked, an icy façade covering her smugness.

"Yes. Three days ago, you witnessed a brat being delivered to me. I can no longer keep it, but nor can I kill it. Take a seat. This explanation may be shocking to you." He waited until the confused woman was seated. "The child is mine. My heir. However, I have come to realise that children are snivelling brats who are about as useless as a flobber-worm. I have no time for such things. However, recently I have noticed that you and your husband are taking longer than the customary time to conceive a child. Therefore, I have found a winning solution for the both of us. You may have the child. Make Rudolfus accept it as his magical heir, and she will be as much your child as mine. You can raise properly until she is 17, when I will see her. She will then follow in my footsteps, subduing the mudbloods and filth that have contaminated this world for too long."

Throughout this rousing speech, Bellatrix had been flabbergasted. She longed to know who the child's mother was, so she could kill- I mean kindly welcome her into Malfoy manor. But the prospect of sharing a child with the Dark lord. It would be as though they were married. The euphoria of that idea over rid any worries she had, including the fact that she would have to do any form of parenting.

A thousand miles away, one thought crossed the babe's mother's mind. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

* * *

 **Well that ending was quite something, wan't it. I always struggle to finish chapters. I wont bored you with excuses of why this update is so late. If I can only update every two months, that's all your going to get. Especially since life happened recently, I was trying to help a friend to overcome an eating disorder she won't even acknowledge she has. (And it's not me being paranoid, she is 5'2" and under 40 kilos, and has had an official diagnosis)**

 **Please review, it actually motivates me to get off my ass and do something. *stares at revision for exams that are in less than one month***


	3. The Fall

Somehow, the child managed to survive the next few months of her life. Sofia riddle became Sofia Ava Lestrange, although the Lestrange part of her name took no small amount of effort. Rudolfus did not take kindly to the prospect of gaining an heir. Children were bothersome, feeble sort of creatures, and something that should be entirely a woman's responsibility. Unfortunately for him, his wife was more than a little mad and besotted with his lord. That much was common knowledge. How far she was willing to go, to prove her crazed affection, was not.

Safe to say he had been shocked when she announced they were to take care of who-know-who's child. He hadn't questioned the order though, for if Bella didn't kill him, the dark lord would. So, he hired a new house elf, one specifically trained in childcare. He also eased up on the active duty, as his wife would not think of doing the same. In fact, she was gone so much, he did not think she would recognise the 1 year old if she came home. Part of him wished she did. If they could leave the country, only for a bit. The constant slaughter of filth, the way half his family would not talk to him; it made him weary.

He shut down his traitorous thoughts. If anyone had read his mind, he might as well… He closed the paperwork, admitting his defeat. His thoughts were too distracting for him to write any kind of leverage over the insufferable Lovegoods. Chasing down all the families who were light and were pregnant, well, such a task was too hard-going for him. Instead he took a gentle stroll around his mansion. He found himself ambling towards Sofia's bedroom, and looked inside. Telsie, the old house elf, was dressing the babe.

"Hello master. Telky says master's dinner will be served around 6, sir. Is this fine for master?" He gave a genuine smile at how sub-ordinate the creature was, if only mudblood's had the same sense of place, they wouldn't be fighting a war in the first place.

"That will be suitable Telsie, thank you."

"Telky also told Telsie to ask if Mistress will be joining you for dinner, sir?" Rudolfus stiffened.

"No, I'm afraid Bella will not be joining us. How is my daughter?" He asked cautiously. It was true, after finally succumbing to his wife's will, he discovered that being a father wasn't all that bad. From his position, it didn't take much effort, and he rather enjoyed the swell of pride when she first learnt to smile, or first rolled over. Telsie gave him a full day's report, what clothes Sofia had worn, what she had eaten. Rudolfus picked the toddler up, marvelling at how much she had grown. Her hair was getting so long. But soon, as it always did, a fearful guilt overtook him and he left the nursery.

It was not his child. Maybe she was his magical heir, but he could see that they were merely a long-standing incubator. The minute she was ready, she would be swept away. He shouldn't make himself go through unnecessary suffering. He had just gotten over his thoughts, setting his mind to the roast beef in front of him, when his bride burst into the dining hall, black hair flying wild. She was smiling, her insane smile that meant she had had fun that day. She barely acknowledged his presence, instead barking a series of orders at Telky, who was clearly terrified of the woman. Soon she was feasting on roast beef, all ideas of manners gone. Why had he married her again?

"How was your day Bella?" He asked, careful to remain calm and non-threatening. The glare he was shot, for daring to interrupt her, made him internally wince. He wondered how many people died by her hands today.

"Wonderful. We are closer than ever to ridding this world of mudbloods. Soon we alone will be victorious!" She said, a maniacal laugh following the propaganda. "The dark lord wishes for me to start pursuing the Longbottom family. He said it was very important. But that damn coot Dumbledore has put them in hiding!" She slammed her fork down so hard the plate broke under its fork. An involuntary shiver went up the man's spine. He daren't ask what the Longbottom's had done to receive such wrath. Something to do with a prophecy, if the rumours were true.

"I'm sure you can handle it, my love." He didn't know how true those words would be.

 **1 year later**

The war had gradually torn the Lestrange family apart. A mad mother, a cold father, and a lonesome toddler were not an idyllic family to begin with. The fighting was mounting on either side. They had killed almost a tenth of the British wizarding population, and muggles in their hundreds. After spending a year and a half out of the line of fire, Rudolfus had had little choice but to return to killing. Unfortunately for the light side, he discovered how much he had missed it, and the insanity of his wife, little by little, began to infect him.

He rediscovered the joy he found when people begged for mercy, when they ran away. His master had been thrilled by his new source of bloodlust, and soon he was working right belong side his wife. Their daughter was left more frequently. Soon Telsie the house elf became her mum. When she cried, it would be Telsie who came to help her. It was Telsie who taught her how to walk. Gone was her father's affections, replaced by indifference, then later mean words that made her scared. The paternal side of Rudolfus had been diminished, he no longer saw a cute, helpless new born, he had even killed two year olds before.

But the biological mother of Sofia was beyond happy at their indifference to the child. The child was being cared for, but forgotten by the Lestrange pair, stood a chance of a relatively normal childhood. The prophecy about the end of Voldemort had been given, and whilst their plan of making Tom paternal had not worked, she could be safe. At least until the monsters started attacking her. All the residents of Olympus had noted her change of mood. She had become more active at party, and they were all looking forward to her appearance at the Samhain party tonight.

But Halloween this year spelled tragedy for her daughter's family. For the wizarding world, certain days of the year are better for performing rituals than others. Samhain, being the day when dark becomes more powerful than light, was one of the best days of the year to perform a dark ritual, especially those involving the dead in some way. Hence why today, Voldemort was preparing to make another horcrux, and rid himself of the prophecy child. He entrusted that Bellatrix and her three compatriots would be able to keep guard for one night.

So alone, he made his way to Godric's Hollow.

It only took a few hours for the rumours to spread. By November 1st, the Lestranges had gone into hiding. Bellatrix was all for attacking the ministry, and dying whilst taking out as many of them as possible. But the rather ingenious Barty Crouch somehow calmed her down. After all, their master wasn't dead in all likely hood. They must find him, and help him. So, Bellatrix, her husband, his brother, and the young death eater took the toddler with them, and found themselves in a warded apartment in London. They had to master the art of subtlety, something they had never done before.

The kitchen table was covered in paperwork they had taken from Malfoy manor. Already most of their forces had left them, Malfoy's included. But not the Lestranges and Crouch. They carried a child, who they would not let the light side taint. After a month of laying low, they received great news. All the order members had come out of hiding, including the Longbottoms. Voldemort had ordered that he be hunted down, but Bella had been unable to find them. But now she could, and they were going to tell her what happened to the dark lord. It only took a day for the plan to be made.

"I'm coming with you!" Yelled Rudolfus, insulted by his wife's insinuation.

"I have enough back up, I do not need you with me. Someone must stay with Sofia." Bellatrix said. The child was important, the Longbottoms also were, but this child was precious.

"Which should be you given that you're the reason she's here in the first place!" Rudolfus retorted, aware of two pairs of eyes watching them both from the corner of the room.

"I don't need you."

"But I want to be there when we find out where the dark lord is! Sofia has been left alone for a night before." He reasoned. He would not be left behind.

"As the dark lords second in command, I order you to stay here!" Bellatrix yelled. Rudolfus stiffened, he hated it when she pulled rank. He stormed out of the room. The three remaining adults converged around a rusty teaspoon, and a minute later vanished. Rudolfus returned to the room accompanied by a two year old, who was already beautiful, storm grey view complementing pitch black hair.

"Dada me no wanna go." She said, trying to refuse the cloak her father tried to put on her.

"I'll be back. I need to help mama." He said softly, as he carried the child into the corridor. He politely knocked on the neighbours door. A teen girl opened it. "Imperio," he whispered, relishing the glazed eyes that the victim showed. "Look after the child." He said simply. The girl smiled, picking up the child, and shut the door behind her. Muggles weren't completely useless, she'd be ok for a few hours.

But, of course, it would take over a decade for the death-eaters to return to that apartment. About an hour later the girl's mother came home, and screamed at the sight of the baby, and the blank look of her daughter's face. Especially when the girl started to fight the mother when she tried to take the baby. The poor girl, Maria, would wake up two days later in hospital, only to tell police that she didn't remember any of it.

The muggle family was, unfortunately, in no state to take in a baby, especially since it had appeared in such weird circumstances. The baby, as was protocol, fell into the hands of the foster-care system. The toddler was able enough to tell them her name, Sofia, but not who her parents were, just a general Mama, Dada, unca Rab and unca Barty, were nowhere near enough to locate a family. Many of them pitied the small thing, she seemingly won over the hearts of anyone who worked with her.

It was surprising it took as long as it did for her to be adopted.

* * *

 **Hey internet wanderers. I will admit that I am writing whilst ill, so it probably makes no sense, especially given how bad I am at writing filler anyway. There will be a few time jumps in this and the next few chapters. The more exciting things won't happen until she's a bit older, mainly because it's unrealistic that a baby can do anything to save themselves. Thanks to guest WelcomeMyChild for reviewing! It probably a big reason why you're getting this chapter so soon.**

 **Also, tell me if you want a holiday theme chapter, and if you prefer notes at the top or bottom.**


	4. A dog named Teddy

"I want to return her." A muggle woman implored to the social worker. "She's a nice child, but ever since she's come into our home, weird things have happened."

"I didn't take you for someone who would believe such superstitions! Sofia couldn't possibly be responsible for the events you're describing. She is only four years old!" Rosamunde Banner said, disbelieving that this could be happening, again! This was the poor girls fifth family, and each time she had been returned after only a few months. If she hadn't been an atheist, she might have started to think the rumours true.

The four-year-old in question took the hand of her social worker, sadness and confusion evident in her eyes. She hadn't even done anything this time. It wasn't her fault that dog started to set things on fire, including her! And if snakes liked talking to her, why should she be the one to be told off? She watched as the adults argued, she could tell they were arguing even if they weren't yelling. It didn't take as long for Miss Banner to give up this time. Her no longer mum left to sit in an office, whilst Miss Banner took her into the playroom.

"Why does no one like me?"

"They do Sofia, but adults can be silly, and they all seem to think you're strange. But you're not. You're a lovely girl, who is unlucky." The girl sniffed once, before nodding and turning around to play with the Lego. The social worker sighed. The girl was growing out of her cute phase. Whilst she was becoming pretty, most parents wanted a small toddler, or an incredibly smart child. Sofia was yet to read a sentence, let alone out-perform her peers.

It had been a week since Sofia had been returned since her fifth adoption home, and was still in the temporary housing. There was only one other girl there, Rebecca, who was six, and more than a handful. Miss Banner was glad she was going be rid of her to be honest.

A gentle knock on the door broke the woman from her trance of paperwork. She told them to come in, and was pleasantly surprised to see Sofia. "Hello Sofia, what's wrong honey?" she asked, as the child didn't look happy.

Sofia pulled at the bottom of her floral dress. Her grey eyes danced around before meeting Rosamunde's. "Rebecca sold Teddy." She said, looking more upset by the second.

"Ok. Rebecca is in a meeting now, but when she comes out we'll get it back." The social worker said, trying to reason with the four-year-old. In future, she would remind herself never to reason with a four-year-old.

"NO! I WANT IT NOW!" Came the scream. Sofia started to wail and cry, and soon the woman found herself dragging a wailing child through the premise. Rebecca was meeting with Mr and Mr Whitely, two very lovely, middle class people. Who were also a little shocked when the loudest wailing they had ever heard stopped outside the door.

"May I speak with Rebecca for a second?" a very distressed looking woman asked. Rebecca looked behind the woman's leg, saw Sofia, and instantly looked very guilty. One of the men noticed this and gave Rebecca a stern glare.

"Why don't you sought this out in here?" The other man said. Rosamunde tried to protest, but Sofia had obviously waited long enough.

"Becky give me back my Teddy!" She said, crossing her arms, and trying her very best to look angry. In reality, it was cute, but no one was going to tell her that.

"Rebecca? Did you steal the girl's Teddy?" Mr Whitely asked sternly.

"No I didn't." The girl lied, and pushed one of the stuffed animals off the table. Sofia saw this and started wailing.

"Teddy's right there. She's lying!" She yelled. Miss Banner picked up the wailing child, much to Sofia's protests, and started backing out of the room. Sofia's screams escalated, and then the most bizarre thing happened. The stuffed dog, which the girl had named Teddy, flew across the room. Without wind, without someone touching it. It just levitated across the room.

Once it was in her arms, Sofia became quiet again, humming softly to herself. Everyone else in the room watched her in silence. Sofia skipped out of the room, and Rebecca burped. Then everything went back to normal.

Later that night, Mr Whitely turned to his husband in bed. "What's wrong?" he asked. The husband shook his head, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't get the image of the floating toy out of his mind. He knew what it was. He'd witnessed random bursts like that many times. But it would reopen old wounds, and require a reconciliation with his brother.

"If you could explain something, and help someone, even at the cost of extensive pain for yourself, would you?" Ben asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"Of course, helping other's is more important than my own gain. What brought on this?" Darren replied, curious as to his lover's predicament. He too had been thinking about the strange happening at the care home, but he'd had no explanation for it, so moved on. Blissfully ignorant. Ben rolled out of his, and found a dressing gown. "What are you doing? Darren called out.

"I'm going to find an owl." Came the answer, as the bedroom door shut behind Ben's figure. Why had he fallen in love with a madman again? He really didn't know.

Another Mr Whitely looked curiously at the muggle envelope when the owl delivered it to him, he opened it, guessing who it was from. He wasn't disappointed:

 _Dear Michael,_

 _I know we haven't spoken in a long time. We are both at fault, although I must admit I let childish jealously overcome me. Me and Darren are as close as the laws will allow currently, and are in the process of adopting girl. Whilst we were at the care home today, the most peculiar thing happened. Another girl came in the room, and ended up throwing a tantrum about a stuffed dog._

 _This is all fairly standard, but then the dog levitated towards her. I remember witnessing your acts of accidental magic when you were a child. This is the same thing, I know it. I also know that she won't be cared for properly. Regret how our mother treated you as a child, and that same fear was present in the eyes of her social worker._

 _I don't know if you have some way of telling if the child if a witch, but either way, it would be good if you could meet her. Maybe you could pop around to my house tomorrow morning. Bring Rachel is you want. We need to talk,_

 _Ben,_

 _P.S. I don't know if the stamps were necessary, so I put one on anyway._


	5. A man named Michael

Mr and Mrs Whitely were nervous, to say the least, about meeting this child. They had written off the chance of having children years ago, after an extremely botched contraception charm left the woman infertile. But there had been bigger things to worry about, the war being one of them. Like so many others, they had eloped during the war, afraid that and day might be their last.

But, luckily for them, Rachel and Michael didn't die during the war. The next three years past in a blur, repairing war damage, opening a business, moving to Ottery St Catchpole and planting a magical garden, bills, taxes, trials, and a whole host of other things left little room for family. Which meant Michael was in for a little bit of a shock when his muggle brother contacted him, requesting an urgent meeting in Chichester. He couldn't think of the last time Ben had contacted him, apart from to check that he was still alive.

Michael Whitely didn't have an excuse not to go however, so the next morning, he dragged himself and his wife out of bed, and apparated to his brother's doorstep, and gulped. Rachel squeezed his arm, and he knocked on the door.

"Come in, come in." Ben said, opening the door, and gesturing them into the small living room. Rachel looked slightly terrified, and just opened and closed her mouth. She had no idea what to say to a man she'd only met at the wedding. Michael saw this, and patted his wife affectionately on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry for not contacting you… for years. I didn't mean to shut you out, but-" The younger brother was cut off, as Ben gave him a crushing hug.

"I understand. I didn't contact you either. But that's not why I called you. I've arranged for you two to meet the kid in half an hour." Ben said, changing the subject to avoid more personal matters. "I'm telling you, she's magical. The bear just flew across the room. I don't know what you can do, whether you still want a kid, or not."

"You want us to adopt this child?" Rachel said, alarm and outrage in her voice. She'd bene watching the brothers' apologies with tactful silence, but this was too far, in her opinion. "Who said anything about wanting children? We haven't even met the child yet!" she said, her tone angry. Ben went to say something, but Michael shot him a warning look, and settled the situation.

"He merely meant that a magical family would be better for a magical child. We don't have to adopt her, just see what's she'd like. Don't worry, we won't rush into things if you don't want to."

 **(This ain't a scene, it's a god damn line break)**

"Why did we agree to this?" Rachel said, gently their new daughter on her lap, as they sat in their living room that night. The adoption process had been speeded up by a few well-placed confundus charms, and Sofia was now Sofia Whitely.

Michael shrugged his shoulders, and continued to make silly faces at the child. "Sofia is adorable and we've suppressed out parenting instincts for years?" He suggested, and both burst out laughing. Sofia followed, though she wasn't entirely sure what all the big words had meant. The four-year-old let out a burp, and Rachel recoiled slightly at the spell.

"You need a bath kiddo." She said, and she lowered Sofia to the ground, and they walked upstairs, leaving Michael behind. The man relaxed instantly, mot used to the high levels of energy that had been spent that afternoon. He thought back on the afternoon. He had seen the girl crying, and he couldn't just leave her there. The social worker had bene glad to get rid of the girl, which made Michael happier with his decision.

Then a horrible scream came from upstairs, and Michael let to his feet. He heard something shatter, and his heart exploded in panic. "Rachel! Rachel!" He yelled as he raced up the stairs. In his hurry he tripped over, and felt a little blood in his mouth. He heard whimpers coming from the bathroom, and he burst in.

He ran to his wife, who was crying, her dress sopping wet. He clutched her, making sure she wasn't hurt. "What happened?" He asked, looking into her eyes. Her woman choked again, before pointing her hand at the small child.

The girl was staring at the couple, her bottom lip trembling. She had no idea why the woman had fallen over and screamed, but it had been a loud noise, and Sofia had an unwanted feeling that she was somehow involved. But Michael understood instantly, on the girl's left arm was a faded tattoo, in the symbol of a skull and snake.

His mind span in circles, until he found himself and Rachel outside the bathroom, the door locked, and a crying child inside. They were both in shock, and both terrible scared. Who was the child inside?

"We have to owl the ministry." Rachel said, panic still present in her voice, although she had magically dried her clothes. Michael shook his head, running his hands through his hair in alarm.

"She's a child. If she were a death eater we would be dead by now." He said, cringing at the sound issuing from the bathroom. He was scared, but had a certainty in his heart that this girl was not dangerous. "She's probably a child of one of the families. She couldn't have done anything, she's four years old for heaven's sake."

Rachel gulped twice, and then nodded, her fingers relaxing from their fists. "We should talk to her social worker, see if we can determine who she belongs to." She squeaked.

"I don't think it matters." The man said, and at his wife's stone cold glare, he relented. "We can't just give her away. We adopted her, she's our child. That mark doesn't mean anything. You-know-who is dead. We'll work it out." He concluded, and then the both of them went back into the bathroom, and put on false smiles as they played with the child.

Later that night, the two sipped wine, as the both stared into the fireplace without talking. Sofia hadn't done anything to harm them, except bring up old memories that should have stayed in the past. Both husband and wife refused to endanger the child by reporting it to the ministry, but neither were sure it was the right decision. They would wait though, wait, and see.

* * *

 **Hey people! I'm sorry about the wait, I have pretty much permanent writers block for the last few months. I know this is slightly shorter than usual, but for the next few chapters it's going to be this way, as I'm bad at writing fluff but I want to flesh out the family dynamics.**

 **I'm also searching for a beta for this story, and two others, so if anyone is interested, please PM me.**

 **Disclaimer: Anything you see in this work belongs to J.K Rowling or Warner Bros, except for my OC's.**


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